Owen glanced at him. “We do.”
“You may exchange those now.”
They unclasped hands. Owen dug into his pocket and pulled out a wedding band. Harvey’s left hand lay limp in his lap. Owen raised it tenderly and threaded the ring on Harvey’s fourth finger. “With this ring, I thee wed.”
Harvey had more trouble getting the ring out of his pocket. Owen had to lend a hand to help guide the gold circle around his ring finger. Once the band was seated on Owen’s hand, Harvey said, “With this ring, I thee wed.”
Griffin straightened. “With the power vested in me by the state of Iowa, I pronounce you husband and husband. You may kiss.”
Harvey reached his good hand toward Owen, his fingers trembling. Owen scooted forward in his chair, caught Harvey’s hand, and leaned over so their lips could meet, brush, press softly. Neither man closed their eyes. Owen raised Harvey’s hand against his own cheek and turned to kiss his palm. Then their mouths came together again in a long slow communion.
When they separated, the volume of the applause startled me. I’d been lost in that moment.I want that.Someone who meantthat much to me in our twilight years. Someone who would make me smile the way Harvey was smiling now. I looked up and my gaze found Griffin’s.
Something wistful in his expression made me hold the stare. He blinked as our eyes met and locked on each other while the applause peaked and ebbed. Then he rubbed his face and turned away.
When the clapping and cheers had ended, Griffin reached over and picked up his guitar. “And now the happy couple is going to promenade out into the garden for some peace and quiet while the wonderful kitchen staff get the wedding lunch set up. Harvey had a few requests for post wedding music.” Griffin plucked a string, then dove into the guitar solo for “Wipeout,” playing the hell out of it.
Owen threw his head back and laughed. “Of course he did.” He turned to me. “Can you help us get on the road to see the flowers?”
“Sure thing. Congratulations!” I helped Owen to his feet, then beckoned an aide over to give him an arm, and another to steady the wheelchair while I transferred Harvey. Together, we arranged his white cape across his lap, tucked away from the wheels.
A man of perhaps fifty, whom I didn’t recognize, holding a camera, came over. “Hey, Harv, you want some photos outside, too?”
“Sure. Let’s do it right. Thanks.”
“Friend of the couple?” I asked him.
“Longtime, yeah.” He shifted his camera to stretch out his hand. “You must be Lee. Thanks for making this possible”
I shook hands but gestured at the staff who were busy moving residents to the dining room and to extra tables set up along the hall for folks who usually ate upstairs. “Big group effort.”
Owen patted my shoulder. “Don’t sell yourself short.”
I arranged for the aide to push Harvey back down the “aisle” alongside Owen and out the garden door, slow progress despite Griffin’s pounding rock beat since everyone wanted to congratulate them. In the dining room, three cakes had been set out on a side table. Ten or fifteen minutes from now, they’d cut one, feed each other a piece.
But a different duty called me.
Noreen looked up when I entered Vicki’s room and murmured, “Did it go well?”
“Beautiful. And very them. Sorry you missed it.”
She waved a hand. “I’m sure someone took video.”
“Go get yourself some cake now. I’ll sit with Vicki.”
“Don’t mind if I do.” She rose from the chair and patted Vicki’s limp hand. “I’m heading out for a bit, honey. Lee’s here to sit with you.”
And that right there was a reason I would do anything I could to keep Noreen on staff. She gave even a woman who hadn’t communicated in months the most personal, compassionate care she could.
I bent over Vicki to do a quick assessment, then sat in Noreen’s chair. The sounds of the party filtered down the hall, but in here, the soft hum of the suction pump and Vicki’s wet breathing filled the quiet space. For optimal care, she should’ve been in a hospital, but she had— wisely in my opinion— set up ahealth care directive that included no advanced measures. This quiet room, without the bustle of a high-tech ER and a bunch of interventions, was how I’d choose to go in her position.
Her throat rattled louder and I got up and suctioned her trach tube. Her color improved and her breathing settled again. No other reaction.
“Hey, there.”
I turned to see Griffin in the doorway, guitar still in hand.
“Hey.” I kept my voice soft. “Great wedding.”
